


I Never Felt Alone, 'Till I Met You

by Notasmuch



Series: Wee!chesters [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-19
Updated: 2011-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:48:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notasmuch/pseuds/Notasmuch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam doesn't want to be alone, he just wants to be on his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Never Felt Alone, 'Till I Met You

**Author's Note:**

> Sam is 13, Dean is 17

Sam had soccer practice, then he had an almost-date, with a real girl, and then there were friends he wanted to spend time with. Just because Dad didn't think those things were _important_ , and Dean looked disapproving, didn't mean Sam was gonna give it all up to stay home and clean weapons.

No amount of weapons training, Latin lessons, sparring or filthy motels would destroy his plan to live a normal life. Or, as normal as it could be.  
 _And get to second base_ , Dean's voice in his head said, but Sam beat it down, because _he_ didn't think like that.

Dad could strike an imposing pose, that was for sure, but Sam could hardly think of something Dad could do to "punish" him, that he wouldn't have had to do anyway. So he went out, had fun and didn't think about the repercussions of _disobeying a direct order._

That's why the guilt that struck him when he came to the motel at 10pm, mouth still tasting of Tina and Coke, was even less welcome than usually.

Dean was sitting on the bed, cleaning the guns, both their loads, and his expression was stormy, but it was pretty clear his anger wasn't directed at Dad.

Sam choked the guilt down and went over to Dean. "Stop it. Quit the martyr act. You don't have to do my share."

Dean didn't even look at him, just smiled bitterly. "Right. 'Cause it'll just do itself."

Sam stepped even closer and grabbed the riffle Dean was cleaning with both hands.

"It's _his_ job. He's the one…"

Dean got up and pushed him so hard Sam fell down on the floor. "You think you're the only one who had plans tonight!? You're not! But someone's got to do this or next time we go out and shoot, it'll blow up in our faces!"

Sam pushed himself back up and into Dean's space. "So let him do it! Those're _his_ toys anyway! He doesn't pick up after me!"

"No, I do that." Dean's voice was perfectly calm and accusing and Sam couldn't believe he sometimes forgot how big a bastard his brother could be.

He ground his teeth and clenched his fists. "So don't do it. No one's asking you to."

Dean smirked again. "What? You want to live alone, Sammy? All badass and grown up now? Great."

He threw the riffle on the bed, grabbed his jacket and walked out.

Sam had no idea where Dad was, but he wasn't in his room for sure, or he would have come out when the shouting started. He took the riffle and started cleaning.

Thing about Dean was that he believed in their Dad like some people believed in God. And in the religion of Hero John, Sam was an atheist. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate all the "greater good" Dad did, it was just that he didn't want to participate. For some reason, that was the biggest sin in their family. Made sense, what with _thou shalt not steal, kill, have other Gods_ etc. tossed out the window.

Sam started pulling apart another gun.

He _wanted_ Dad to accept his choices, to be proud of his school successes like most parents would be, to come to his matches and cheer him on. He wanted. But he could live without.

But he didn't want any of it, especially Dad, to stand between Dean and himself. Somewhat because he feared that if Dean had to choose, he wouldn't chose Sam. Then Sam _would_ be alone. And even when he imagined saying _to hell with it all_ and going to college, finding real work, being _on his own_ , Sam couldn't imagine it without Dean there, proud of the life Sam had made for himself and realizing that Sam didn't need him to hold his hand _all_ the time.

He was almost done with cleaning his pile when Dean came back, still angry and distant. Sam spent a few minutes not watching him stomp around and argue with the furniture.

"I don't want to be alone."

Dean stopped and looked at him, cocky but listening.

"I just don't want to be his soldier either."

"He's doing what's best for us."

"He's…" Sam bit his lip before he started the vicious circle again. "Don't do my work any more. I'll deal with Dad on my own."

Dean clenched his jaw, "Fine," and Sam put down the last gun.

Dean was still stiff when he started getting ready for bed and Sam didn't want it to end like that, but talk time in the Winchester household didn't really last longer than a few sentences.

Instead, he said, "I was out with a girl tonight," which predictably got Dean's head up and put a ridiculous grin on his face.

"All right, Sammy! How far did you go?"

Sam wanted to roll his eyes but felt himself blush a little. "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."

Dean laughed, thrilled, and held a hand up for high-five. "I've never been more proud of you, little brother. You are a Winchester after all!"

Sam did roll his eyes that time, but before he could say anything his brother landed on him, full force, and they wrestled until Sam's face ended up in Dean's armpit. It was as close to a hug as they got to these days and Sam laughed happily as he tried to push him off.


End file.
